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Authors: Michael Reaves
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she said explosively.
The klaxon cut out just then, and the expletive echoed harshly in the suddenly silent hallway. Mel slid into the corner beside Arruna as she began punching codes into the control pad.
“What’s she mean there’s no leak?” Dash asked Leebo. “The ship seems to think there is.”
“With all due respect, the ship is wrong. There’s no difference in pressure on that side of the bulkhead and no sign that the air is going anywhere it doesn’t belong.”
Dash pointed at the emergency doors. “Is Javul Charn in there?”
“We don’t know.”
“Well, have you tried to communicate with her?”
“Communications seems to have been affected by the event,” said Eaden. “Whatever the event was.”
Dash turned to Mel and Arruna, who were still poking at the control panel.
“Any luck?”
Arruna glanced back over her shoulder. “The controls are dead.”
Dash nodded. “Leebo, open it.”
The droid’s head swiveled toward him, optics glowing. “What—you mean by brute force? Like
that’s
gonna happen. Do I look like an 11-88 factory droid to you?”
“Move back,” Dash said sharply, waving aside Mel and Arruna.
They moved back. He pulled his blaster pistol, aimed, and drilled the control panel right above its transparent faceplate. It flew open with a small explosion of sparks and a fizzle. He holstered his pistol.
“
Now
open it,” he told Leebo.
“You didn’t say the magic wo—”
Dash’s blaster was back in his hand. Leebo finished smoothly, “—but you’re under a lot of stress. I understand.” As the droid spoke, it moved to the door control and inserted an index finger into the servo mechanism. Nothing happened.
“Huh. That’s odd. There appears to be no power reaching this panel at all.”
He put a second hand to the controls, completing the circuit, and fed a jolt of energy into it. The servo whined, and the doors began to slide open. They got no more than a half a meter apart when they stopped.
“That’s all I got, boss.”
“It’s enough.” Dash slipped through the breach and into the aft section of the quarterdeck. It was dark—the emergency lights had apparently been affected as well—and eerily quiet. The air was devoid of the countless background noises—the muffled clicks of relays, thegentle exhalation of recycled air, the felt-more-than-heard
thrum
of generators—that are a starship’s usual ambience. More than just the lights had been shut down in this section. Eaden came through right behind Dash, every tendril on his head on full alert.
All along the corridor the doors were sealed shut. At the far end, Dash could see the blur of light and dark as they hurtled through hyperspace. Leak or no leak, his skin still crawled and his jaw hurt from gritting his teeth. He tried to relax his face. Didn’t help much.
He waved Eaden to the starboard side of the corridor while he stepped to port. He sensed Mel and Arruna behind him. “Arruna,” he whispered to the Twi’lek, “get up to the engineering station and see if you can figure out what happened to the power back here.”
“You got it,” she said, and headed back. She sounded relieved.
Sensible
, he thought.
“Mel, how good are you with a blaster?”
“Scale of one to ten? Twelve.”
“Good.” Dash pulled a second pistol out of the hidden holster inside his jacket and handed it to the cargo master. “Just in case.”
Mel examined it somewhat dubiously. “Of course, that’s a scale where one is the best …”
Dash stopped short and looked at him. The other gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry. Can’t hit a cargo hold wall—from inside.”
Dash blew his breath out, and noticed that it fogged the air. Even with the yacht’s state-of-the-art insulation, it was getting cold fast. He quickly adjusted Mel’s hand on the weapon, ensuring that the man’s finger was inside the trigger guard. “Squeeze here; death and destruction comes out here. Right? Good. Leebo, stand
The klaxon cut out just then, and the expletive echoed harshly in the suddenly silent hallway. Mel slid into the corner beside Arruna as she began punching codes into the control pad.
“What’s she mean there’s no leak?” Dash asked Leebo. “The ship seems to think there is.”
“With all due respect, the ship is wrong. There’s no difference in pressure on that side of the bulkhead and no sign that the air is going anywhere it doesn’t belong.”
Dash pointed at the emergency doors. “Is Javul Charn in there?”
“We don’t know.”
“Well, have you tried to communicate with her?”
“Communications seems to have been affected by the event,” said Eaden. “Whatever the event was.”
Dash turned to Mel and Arruna, who were still poking at the control panel.
“Any luck?”
Arruna glanced back over her shoulder. “The controls are dead.”
Dash nodded. “Leebo, open it.”
The droid’s head swiveled toward him, optics glowing. “What—you mean by brute force? Like
that’s
gonna happen. Do I look like an 11-88 factory droid to you?”
“Move back,” Dash said sharply, waving aside Mel and Arruna.
They moved back. He pulled his blaster pistol, aimed, and drilled the control panel right above its transparent faceplate. It flew open with a small explosion of sparks and a fizzle. He holstered his pistol.
“
Now
open it,” he told Leebo.
“You didn’t say the magic wo—”
Dash’s blaster was back in his hand. Leebo finished smoothly, “—but you’re under a lot of stress. I understand.” As the droid spoke, it moved to the door control and inserted an index finger into the servo mechanism. Nothing happened.
“Huh. That’s odd. There appears to be no power reaching this panel at all.”
He put a second hand to the controls, completing the circuit, and fed a jolt of energy into it. The servo whined, and the doors began to slide open. They got no more than a half a meter apart when they stopped.
“That’s all I got, boss.”
“It’s enough.” Dash slipped through the breach and into the aft section of the quarterdeck. It was dark—the emergency lights had apparently been affected as well—and eerily quiet. The air was devoid of the countless background noises—the muffled clicks of relays, thegentle exhalation of recycled air, the felt-more-than-heard
thrum
of generators—that are a starship’s usual ambience. More than just the lights had been shut down in this section. Eaden came through right behind Dash, every tendril on his head on full alert.
All along the corridor the doors were sealed shut. At the far end, Dash could see the blur of light and dark as they hurtled through hyperspace. Leak or no leak, his skin still crawled and his jaw hurt from gritting his teeth. He tried to relax his face. Didn’t help much.
He waved Eaden to the starboard side of the corridor while he stepped to port. He sensed Mel and Arruna behind him. “Arruna,” he whispered to the Twi’lek, “get up to the engineering station and see if you can figure out what happened to the power back here.”
“You got it,” she said, and headed back. She sounded relieved.
Sensible
, he thought.
“Mel, how good are you with a blaster?”
“Scale of one to ten? Twelve.”
“Good.” Dash pulled a second pistol out of the hidden holster inside his jacket and handed it to the cargo master. “Just in case.”
Mel examined it somewhat dubiously. “Of course, that’s a scale where one is the best …”
Dash stopped short and looked at him. The other gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry. Can’t hit a cargo hold wall—from inside.”
Dash blew his breath out, and noticed that it fogged the air. Even with the yacht’s state-of-the-art insulation, it was getting cold fast. He quickly adjusted Mel’s hand on the weapon, ensuring that the man’s finger was inside the trigger guard. “Squeeze here; death and destruction comes out here. Right? Good. Leebo, stand
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